


Deep Breaths

by MerlinOfTheShire



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Claustrophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Nightmares, Oblivious Simon Snow, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Protective Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Training, Watford (Simon Snow), Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 05:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21333151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerlinOfTheShire/pseuds/MerlinOfTheShire
Summary: Simon Snow is ready to go off. He's sitting three rows in front of me, and I can feel it. His magic. It's everywhere, invisible to the naked eye. How can one person hold so much power inside them? I suppose that was the point. He can't.Though, against my better judgment, I don't blame him. About why it's happening, I mean.He's just a boy. And that boy is stressed.Simon Snow is supposed to save the world, yet he cant cast a spell to clean a spoon.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	Deep Breaths

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, setting, pretty much the plot, or any other ideas from Rainbow Rowell's Carry On. I have a fanfic under my account on fanfic.net under the same name. This is an updated (and much longer) version.

**Baz**

Simon Snow is ready to go off.

He's sitting three rows in front of me, and I can feel it. His magic. It's everywhere, invisible to the naked eye. I can smell it though; cinnamon and, well, _magic. _It makes my nose wrinkle. How can one person hold so much power inside them? I suppose that was the point. He cant.

So much is escaping from him that I think he might run out. But he never does. Of course, he doesn't. Simon-bloody-snow, an endless supply of power. The fucking chose one. He has too much magic, far too much for anyone to be able to control. But he's the fucking chosen one. The Mages little pet. He's supposed to be able to control it, not let it flood out anytime he gets a bit of teen angst. 

Though, against my better judgment, I don't blame him. About why it's happening, I mean.

He's just a boy. And that boy is stressed. 

Aside from being destined (and counted upon) to save the entire magical world and probably kill his roommate, Simon Snow hasn't been able to correctly cast a single spell this class. 

We're near the end of Magic Spells class now, and the professor is looking at Snow like he's the dirt on his shoes. Snow says the words, but he can never seem to be able to control the amount of magic he puts into them. Just earlier Snow attempted to perform** Clean as a whistle** on a spoon, but ended up completely removing everything that had been written on the board, everything from all the books, and all that had been written within the student's workbooks, including my own. The professor reversed it with a simple **As you were**, but he was fuming long after.

Snow looked halfway between falling apart, and tearing the professor apart.

Its almost ironic; being at constant risk of losing control of oneself was supposed to be my thing. 

"Use your words, Simon," the professor says again, voice thin.

Imbecile. I know from experience how that particular sentence set Snow off. I use them on him myself from time to time, just to agitate him. Somehow it bothers me though, hearing someone else say those words to Snow. Like I alone have the right to poke at him. Especially now that we have some 'truce' going._ Or because you know that you don't mean it, and that professor really does. _

The truce. I really hadn't expected that. Honestly, it's more than I could have hoped for. The path to Snow piercing my heart with a table leg seems to be at a momentary halt. He's doing other things to my heart now. Well, he always had really. I'm finding it harder to keep up appearances; sneer instead of smile, raise an eyebrow instead of laugh. Say I hate you instead of I love you. 

I really do love him, the numpty.

I watch Snow carefully now; he is becoming a blur behind all his magic. Can anyone else see it? No one is taking much notice yet, not even the professor who is now looming over Snow's hunched form, hands on either side of the desk. Snow's head is ducked, submissive, but I am uncannily sure that there is a look of defiance on his face. Good.

"Pathetic and disappointing, Snow," the professor leers, leaning into snow, "how are you suppose to save your friends if you can't even clean a spoon?"

Simon Snow begins to shake. 

I'm moving to his desk before I even realise I left mine. I ignore the protests of the professor. He'd lost my respect the second he said those words. How _dare_ he? I bet he can't even summon a dung beetle. I would like to let Snow blow up, if I didn't know the guilt would destroy him. He's got a worse guilt complex than I do.

I come to a stop by the desk; other students are starting now. Snow finally looks up, still hunched from his space beeing so intruded upon. I was right, there is defiance in his eyes. Though I don't think it's for me. Good timing on my part; his pupils are almost entirely contracted, leaving nothing but blue. Usually a bad sign from the person you are in love with. For Snow, it just means he's got more magic at his fingertips than he can handle.

He looks me over, "what are you-" 

I take his arm and pull him up from the desk, away from the professor. "We're leaving this classroom," I say, leading him away, "its a disgrace to Watford." I wait for the door to close behind us to slip my arm around his back. I do it unthinkingly, wanting to bring him closer. To shield him.

He still shakes as we walk down the corridor, but he doesn't move away. 

Eventually, when we're far enough away and relatively safe from accidentally injuring half the school, I stop.

"Baz, what-"

I shush him, moving to gently take hold of his lower arms. Not to hold him still, but as some form of comfort, I suppose. "Deep breaths now, Simon," I say, softer than I thought I could. "Let it go. Some of it. Before you start another fire. What he said was wrong, and cruel, but this won't help."

He stares at me, his pupils enlarging slightly. And a little bit more.

Though I doubt it does anything to my complexion, I feel what blood I have rush to my cheeks. He is calming down; that's all.

"You called me Simon," he says.

_Oops. _I shake my head, "you're hearing things, Snow. Now, work with me here. **Stay the course, Keep it together.**"

I feel Snow's magic channel through me once again, and my spells intensify. How in Merlin can he have this much magic? It feels like someone left the tap on and the bathrooms turned into a pool. Except that pool has flooded and now the house is going under as well. And how in Morganna is he channelling it through me? I decide it doesn't matter right now, his aura is calming. Becoming less wild. His pupils are back to their normal size, but I can still feel his magic. I really always can; it's impossible not too when he has so much of it. I should drop my arms.

Then again I should stop being so in love with him, but here we are.

He is still staring at me, a small smile on his lips.

I furrow my brow, "_what_?"

He smiles more "you called me Simon."

* * *

**Simon**

I haven't stopped staring at him all afternoon. He's just lying there, stretched gracefully on his bed as he reads something that looks at least 100 years old. The cover is bound leather and there is no visible title, even on the spine. It must be interesting to Baz though; he hasn't taken his eyes off it all afternoon. In fact, I'm pretty sure he hasn't turned pages once. I sigh, "Baz I know you're not actually reading that."

He ignores me and turns a page. 

I roll my eyes, falling onto my back to stare at the ceiling, enjoying the breeze from the open window. That's something I suppose, he hadn't argued about it tonight. I would have opened it up again anyway, I need the fresh air when I've gone off. Not that I had. I can't believe Baz did that. Help. He's is top of the class and never risks losing that position, especially not to stop me from accidentally setting fire to the whole classroom. Usually, he encourages it. Now he's acting exactly as he always does (and is supposed to). Like he hadn't hours earlier wrapped an arm around my waist and led me away to calm down. 

He's just lying there. Unreadable aside from his usual sneers, which returned shortly after classes finished.

Somethings changed though. I don't know what but it has. Baz probably knows; he always seems to know everything before I do. Probably the plotting. Still, he'd helped me. He didn't need to; the truce only means we don't attempt to kill each other at the first opportunity. But he'd helped anyway.

He called me Simon. 

I want him to say my name again. It sounded nice, coming from his lips. He made it sound like the name belonged only to me. 

Baz had done that magic-channelling thing again. Or I had? I could feel my magic flowing into his spell, feeding it and making it powerfull. Could it only happen when I was about to go off? Like a reservoir anyone can take from. Or was I doing it? Letting Baz use my magic to power his spell. However, it worked I could feel it. I could feel the magic flow through me to Baz, and into his spell. Id hadn't felt in control, but it hadn't felt out of it either. It just was. Had Baz felt it? He must have, or else he wouldn't have noticed it. Is that something all vampires can do? He hadn't been overwhelmed by it either this time, like he'd expected it to happen. Like he'd drawn on willingly.

Suddenly I have a thought. I roll back onto my side, cheek pressed into my pillow, "Baz?" I ask. 

Baz sighs, dropping his book to his lap as he looks to the ceiling, "yes, Snow?"

Back to Snow then. I have to think about what to say next- I had expected him to just keep on ignoring me. He's looking at me now, waiting. He's as grey as ever, eyes dark. _As Beautiful as ev-_

Stop that. He's the enemy, even if he is being nice. Well, sort of. 

Baz starts going back to his book. 

"Wait!" I bark.

Baz raises an eyebrow, "I've waited."

_Use your words, Snow._ The words echo in my head, voices muddled. "Doyouthinkyoucouldteachmehowtocontrolmymagic?" I blurt. 

Baz's eyebrows pinch together, "Simon, really. Use-" He stops, lips sealing together. I'm thankful.

Using my elbow, I prop myself up on my elbow, so I'm level with Baz. "I, do you- Do you think you could teach me? How to control my magic, I mean."

Baz lets go of his book completely now, "_what?_"

I try to shrug, "I thought that maybe you could show me how it feels?"

He raises an eyebrow again.

My eyes widen, "how it feels to cast a spell correctly. _Merlin,_ Baz."

"How do you propose I dot that?" he asks, his interest peaked. He's facing me now.

Sitting up, I gesture vaguely around me. "Well, when you cast that spell, and drew on my magic, I could- I could feel the spell. So I thought maybe you could cast a spell, and call on my magic, but only the amount you really need to use."

"And that would help because?"

He's just not getting it- Or maybe I'm just being stupid, and it's too stupid of an idea to understand. I look at my feet, "because I can feel how much magic I'm supposed to use, I guess."

Baz is silent, and I don't look to see whatever expression is on his face. He probably thinks I'm more of a numpty than before. '_feel the magic_', as soon as the words came out of my mouth I could hear how stupid it sounded. I've probably just ruined whatever incentive I'd done to cause him to be less of a tosser-

"Alright, Snow."

Oh. 


End file.
